


Clifftop

by Ishendayar



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 07:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishendayar/pseuds/Ishendayar
Summary: After last week's episode, the final moments stayed in my mind and this little tale developed. So I thought, I would share it.Many thanks to Graham Winston and Debbie Horsefiled for the characters and wonderful stories.





	Clifftop

Demelza was frantic.  
Ross had seemingly disappeared into thin air.  
She had left him on the cliff and he had not come home.  
By the time she realized something was amiss, it was too late to search for clues.  
She had gone to find Zachy Martin. He had gone to raise the villagers and organize search parties.  
Gimblet had been sent to inform Dwight and Caroline. But really, all that could be done was wait for daylight and that was many hours away on cold October evening.

He woke to absolute darkness, with a blinding headache, no idea where he was and no memory. After a brief struggle, he sank back into unconsciousness.

The next time he awoke, it was because of the cold and the wet.  
There was water in this darkness – incoming water. It left him perplex.  
He tried to feel where he was. He was lying on a small area of sand, around him, in arms reach, he could feel rock. He tried to move – very slowly and carefully.  
Rock surrounded him. A tunnel? A cave? He had no idea. The water was coming in.  
There was no doubt about that. Very carefully he tried to stand. The dizziness was almost overwhelming. He reached out with his arms. There was a curved sidewall to his left. He followed it upwards. There was space. That was good. Space meant air.  
He felt his way back a little, away from the incoming water, but soon reached the back wall of the cave.  
He wondered if there was a chance of getting out of his prison – but no, not in his current state and not without a light. For now, there was nothing but to sit and wait and see how bad this would become.

He tried to piece together in his mind how he had gotten here.  
Eventually, fragmented images rose to the surface. Ned’s hanging. The magistrate’s betrayal. A desperate farewell from Kitty. They had tried to see her safe – had offered her a haven but she only wanted to leave these shores of despair behind. A return journey, almost bereft of words, sharing the carriage with Caroline and Dwight. Her occasional touch on his arm. A show of sympathy and understanding. Silent looks between himself and Dwight. A complete inability to communicate after what he perceived as his abject failure and the complete betrayal by the state. His ideals broken.  
London? To never go back would be too soon.  
His only solace right now – Demelza.  
His wounded soul reaching out to her love and warmth - his soul mate – the heart that would await him full of loyalty and strength, would not ask questions now but just hold him safe in his broken state.

And she had. The relief and warmth that suffused him as he was rushing towards her on the clifftop path. The absolute relief of holding her in his arms, burying his face in her hair, her scent, her warmth and familiarity. Coming home.  
Her light shining into the darkness of his soul - a first ray of hope.

Here in his dark prison, he remembered her gentle caress on his face, his hair.  
The love she surrounded him with so unquestioningly – her understanding and empathy. Tears? Had he cried? No, he had not.   
The pain was unbearable - the desolation of loss and failure. But for him, there was no room for tears. He had to function, had to go on... see Kitty safe. Deal with the aftermath of the execution, the comprehension that he had trusted, had shown his hand to the ringleader of the conspiracy against Ned. Had failed so utterly and completely not only to save the friend but to see the truth – the reality of Westminster, of politics.  
How could he ever have hoped to make a difference?

All these thoughts flashed through his mind as he tried to comprehend how he had gotten himself into this situation.

Demelza had left him to sit by himself for a while and grieve.  
He had heard footsteps and thought she had returned.  
Instead, there was a blinding pain and darkness – and the utter and complete darkness that surrounded him now.

Where was he?  
Probably in a tidal cave not far from Nampara. He had been almost home.

He had been almost home – almost reached the light that was Demelza and his family and somehow he had fallen from this loving reality into the blackness of his soul’s despair.

How had he gotten here?  
Could he have been followed? Not really.  
Could Mercer and Hanson have spies in the neighbourhood? Most likely – yes.  
In these times of unrest and unsettlement, he could think of a few.  
And he should have been prepared for the risk of retribution even here in Cornwall.

The water had risen to his waste now. It was cold but bearable. He thanked all the winter swims since his boyhood. Carefully he rose on tiptoe trying to gage the height of the ceiling above.  
Would there be an air pocket? Would the water rise above standing height?  
He had no idea, but he was determined to hold on.

His head was still throbbing with great intensity but he focused on his heart – on Demelza.

Demelza – as the water rose around him and he could feel the press of the incoming tide, she became his sole focus. He stayed on his feet for as long as he could - at first leaning against the wall for support. But eventually, the waters rose too high. He began to swim. He had taken off his shoes and coat when he realized just how serious this would become.  
So far there was still space above him.  
There was still air.

He fought the panic and claustrophobia.  
There was no way out. He could not see. Again and again, he bruised himself on the rough rock of the enclosing walls. Sometimes he found a small outcropping to hold onto for a while. There was nothing he could do but stay in the moment, try to stay alive, hope his strength would last.

He felt his senses fading and still he remained focused on Demelza.  
He had to hold on for her – for himself. This could not – would not – be the end.  
As the night progressed, he thought of Francis all those years ago.  
He felt figures from the past rising around him.  
As his arms began to fail, his body began to lose its strength, he felt Francis and Elisabeth so very close to him – supporting him, warming him, encouraging him with their love. When his strength began to give out, Ned rose again to badger him into not giving up. His uncle, his father – they were all talking to him, telling him to continue, to not let go -and then, at last, his mother. Then he wanted to let go, to fall into her love and leave the world behind but none of them allowed him to relinquish his hold on life.  
All of them reminded him of the love that surrounded him in this life.  
Demelza and the children and Prudie; Dwight, Carolin, Zachy Martin and all the miners who depended on him for their livelihood. 

The hours passed and somehow Ross managed to keep himself above water, keep the panic at bay, keep his sanity. After this, he would forever be uneasy with dark, damp and enclosed spaces but his mind stayed clear and focused.

Eventually, when he had barely any strength left, the water began pulling out.  
Now he had to find a way not to be dragged out of the cave too soon.  
He knew that he would not have the strength to fight the tide if it took him.

With the ebb not only did the waters recede, but the new day rose and the light came up.  
Gradually the utter blackness faded and some dim shapes became visible in his prison.  
It had indeed been a cave that was almost entirely submerged by water during high tide.  
Now Ross could stand – trembling with exhaustion and absolute cold, he leant against the cave wall still more than half-submerged in the water.

The final wait was agony. His muscles cramping from the cold while his body began to shake with uncontrollable ferocity. He could hear his teeth chattering.

And still, the spirits of the dead were surrounding him with their warmth.

At last a ray of the rising morning sun broke into the cave above the water level.  
The light was almost blinding him.  
On all fours and again half-submerged in the water, he began to crawl down the corridor towards light and freedom.

He had survived!

But when the outside world finally opened to him, he had barely the strength to notice.  
He saw that he was on a beach. At low tide, there would be a significant stretch of sand but as the water would press in again only a narrow strip would remain safe. He could see where the dry sand was. It seemed unimaginably far away.

Ross began to crawl. Several times his strength gave out and he lay on the wet sand panting. All he wanted to do was let go, sleep, rest.  
But ‚not yet’ the voices were urging him.  
‚You are not safe yet’... ‚a few more yards’... ‚keep going my love, for me’. It was her voice and by now it was the only thing that could rouse the very last of his reserves, the very last of his life energy. There were no more reserves. As the early morning sun touched the beach, he reached the dry send. A few more yards and he would be safe.  
He collapsed on his side. Nothing could make him move now. He was spent. Let fate decide what would come next.  
He reached out in the sand and whispered her name as darkness took him once more...  
a lone figure lying in the sand in the early morning light – still and unmoving.  
His remaining clothes were wet and plastered to his body. He had no coat and no shoes.  
The violent shivering had stopped. The body had expended all its energy.  
The morning breeze had concealed some of his efforts but some traces of his crawl up the beach could still be seen.

Demelza was absolutely frantic.  
She and Dwight had been out with the very first colours of the dawn searching.  
Ross had not come home. There had been no sign of him.  
Search parties had been formed but there had not been too much that could be done until now.  
Dwight had tried to calm her but she would not be calmed. She had a premonition of disaster, an inexplicable all-consuming fear.  
Where was Ross? What had happened to him?  
He had been so glad to be home? She could not see him not returning to Nampara in time for dark however intense the grief might have been.  
This night more than any other, he would have needed the comfort she could offer.  
Had the unseen forces followed him from London after all?

So many thoughts were running through her head.  
They came over the top of a hill and a beautiful small cove lay below them.  
She knew the beach but not its name.  
It was small and only really accessible at low tide. Otherwise only the narrowest strip of beach remained. As she was looking she suddenly became aware of the markings in the sand... as if a body had been dragged. She bent forward trying to catch a glimpse of the sands closest to the cliff face.

‚Judas! Dwight, look down there! He is down there!!! Ross!!!! Can you hear me? Ross!!!’  
Dwight followed her example to see and yes, there was a figure crumpled on the sands.

‚We need to get down there right now. Demelza, you may not like this but it may make all the difference: find the others. Bring rope and a plank. We need to get him off this beach.’

‚Should we not first see how he is?’  
With those words, she turned and ran. She found the narrow little path that led down to the cove. Dwight nodded and followed as fast as he could. 

The last few yards and she sank to her knees in the sand next to the unmoving figure.  
‚Ross’ she whispered.  
His body was icy cold, his lips had a blue tinge to them. He was very pale.  
Dwight was with her now. ‚Alive’. She whispered. His hand flew to his friend’s neck. Yes, there was a pulse. Struggling, erratic, faint - but present. A sigh of relief escaped him.  
‚Demelza, help me get him out of these wet clothes.’  
For a second Demelza did not seem to understand but then her fingers fumbled to undo the buttons of his shirt.   
She could see bruises and lacerations all over his body. What on earth had happened to him?  
‚Demelza, your coat please.’  
She shrugged it off and Dwight wrapped Ross in her coat followed by his own.

Then he began to carefully examine him., to feel for any broken bones through the fabric.  
Demelza held onto Ross’s hand for one more moment.  
Then she let go and stood. ‚I will find help.’ She said in a deceptively calm voice.  
Dwight nodded.  
‚Hypothermia. I don’t yet know what else. It appears as if he was in the water all night long.’ Dwight looked almost disbelieving. ‚ How could Ross still be alive?’

Demelza ran, up the little path and along the cliffs. Eventually, she found Zachy and a group of men. They split. Some to run back to the village, other’s to get equipment to get Ross off the beach and back to Nampara.

Demelza rushed on back to the house. They would need warm water, a clean bed, bricks heated in the fire. When she came rushing into the kitchen, Prudie stared at her. ‚Lord safe us. What’s happened?’ Caroline immediately came in from the parlour.

‚We found him. We need warm water, heated bricks, the downstairs box bed to be made up, fires lit. Prudie, can we have some bedding on the table. Dwight may need to examine him. Here the light is good and the kitchen is warm.’

‚What happened?’  
‚We don’t know yet. Ross was unconscious when we found him. Very cold. Wet. But alive.’

‚How?’  
That was the question that would, for now, remain unanswered.

A short time later, Dwight and four men came into the yard. Between them, they were carrying Ross safely tied to a makeshift stretcher. They came into the kitchen with their precious burden. Dwight smiled when he saw Demelza’ preparation.  
Very carefully Ross was transferred to the table.  
Prudie gasped. Caroline silently stood back and observed the scene.  
Dwight looked across the room at her.  
It was all in his eyes. The sadness, despair, the fear. This had been no accident.

‚What ever happened during this night, he sustained a massive blow to the head.  
I don’t rightly know how he survived. His body is almost too cold to live. Hypothermia.  
He must have been in the water all night long. We need to bring his core temperature up slowly.’

Prudie brought hot drinks to the men.   
‚be there anything else we can do to help?’  
‚No, not for now. Other than keep silent as much as possible. Until we know what really happened.’ Then men nodded and trouped out.

Demelza had exchanged the coats for a warm blanket.  
Then she hung back as Dwight once again very carefully looked over Ross’s body.  
He could feel the muscles cramping and trembling with exhaustion beneath his fingers.  
He could also feel the body gradually beginning to warm. The skin had begun to turn pink. To his great relief there were not white dead-looking patches.   
‚Don’t let go. You keep on fighting, my friend. I won’t let go of you either. Remember Virginia. You can do this again. Just hold on. For Demelza’s sake.’

His friend’s eyelids fluttered at her name. He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes, but Dwight clearly saw a reaction. ‚Demelza, come over here. Hold his hand. He is too exhausted to wake fully, but he reacted to your name.’  
Demelza sat at the head of the table holding Ross’s hand and gently singing to him. She felt the faintest pressure on her fingers. A silent tear trickled down her cheek. She bent forward and tenderly kissed his forehead. His lips. ‚You come back to me my love.’

After Dwight had made sure that there were no other concealed injuries, Ross was moved to the bed. The warm bricks were placed around him – not too close but to gently increase the warmth. Once more Demelza, Dwight and Caroline sat vigil for Ross.  
His state did not worsen, but neither did he wake.  
Once or twice Demelza thought she felt a faint tightening of his fingers on her hand.  
By the evening, his pulse had strengthened and his breathing was more even.  
Demelza could see that Dwight was more hopeful.

‚He is still so cold.’   
‚But far more stable. He will need watching to ensure this will not turn into pneumonia.  
A fever will be normal as part of the healing process. I would be glad to get some warm fluids into him, but for now his progress is good.’

The evening passed and still there was no change.  
As the candles burned low, Demelza suggested that Dwight should join Caroline and get some rest. She would stay with Ross and wake him if anything changed.

When she was alone, she took off her outer garments and gingerly climbed into bed with him. She wrapped herself around him. Layed her head on his chest to hear the beating of his heart. The relief of it! Conscious or not – he was in there. He was alive.  
She knew with absolute certainty that he would come back to her.


End file.
